


Drabbles for Eight Hard Years of HardTimes100

by dustandroses



Category: Oz - Fandom
Genre: Character of Color, Community: hardtime100, Drug Use, Eight Hard Years, F/M, Humor, M/M, Other, Rare Pairing, Sex with Puppets, Violence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-06
Updated: 2011-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six Oz Drabbles written for the Eight Hard Years Challenge for HardTimes100's eighth birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabbles for Eight Hard Years of HardTimes100

**Author's Note:**

> The first four were posted on April 18, the last two posted on April 22 of 2011.
> 
> The challenge called for eight drabbles or flash fic during the course of the month, these six drabbles, plus two flashfic (Cock of the Walk & Who's the Man?) completed the challenge.

**Don’t Think Twice** \- Miguel Alvarez/Donald Groves, 100 words, NC17

Miguel is high as a kite and horny as hell. So when Groves offers him a blowjob, he doesn’t even think twice about how Groves landed in Oz, he just unzips his fly, pulls out his cock and says, “Come and get it, papi.”

¡Dios mío! It’s been a long time and Groves’ mouth is warm and eager. After he comes, Miguel watches, sated and lethargic, as Groves jerks off between his sprawled legs: face flushed, eyes closed, hips pumping his cock into his fast-moving fist.

It’s gotta be the acid, ‘cause that’s sexiest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

 

  
 **Sock Puppet** \- Ryan  & Cyril O'Reily, 200 words, NC17

“Ryan, what’s a fourway?”

 _Damn that Beecher._ “Don’t worry about that, Cyril. That’s grown-up talk. Now go to sleep.”

There was silence for a moment, and Ryan began to relax. That line didn’t always work, but it looked like he might have lucked out, this time.

“It’s one of those things I’m not supposed to know about? Like what the bad man did? But Toby’s not bad. I like him.”

“No, Cyril, Toby’s not bad.” _A little twisted, maybe._ “But he’s a grown-up, remember? Grown-ups are allowed to talk about that stuff.”

“So I’m not allowed to have a fourway with Nooter and Pecky?”

 _Holy fuck!_ “No, Cyril. You’re not. That was a joke.” _Christ, I hope it was a joke._ “Nooter and Pecky aren’t allowed to have a fourway either, with or without Miss Sally. Now go to sleep.”

“Okay. Night Ryan.”

“Night, Cyril.”

Ryan rolled over and sighed, wishing he could scrub away the thought of Beecher fucking Miss Sally… while Nooter sucked on one hefty tit, and Pecky shoved one tiny blue fist firmly up Beecher’s ass. Christ on a crutch. He was never going to get that image out of his head, now.

 

 **It’s the Hair** \- Vern Schillinger  & Tobias Beecher, 100 words, PG13

It’s gotta have something to do with the hair. Vern liked him much better clean-shaven; wounded eyes downcast under wire rimmed glasses, short hair neatly combed. That was the prag he knew what to do with. This Beecher he doesn’t understand, with his strange, pointy beard and his sly fuck-you smirk. It reminds Vern of right before the riot; Beecher threatening his parole, all bushy bearded and wild eyed as he sauntered off: “I got it bad, and that ain’t good…” Well, he wouldn’t win this time. Vern would figure out a way to save Andy, one way or another.

 

  
 **Bad Influence** \- Ryan O'Reily/Chris Keller, 100 words, NC17

Keller’s knife slashed through Shemin’s throat, spattering them both with drops of hot arterial blood.

“Jesus, Keller! Watch where you’re aiming!”

Licking blood off his lips, Keller turned, eyes burning as he grinned at Ryan. Keller's thumb rubbed across his neck, and Ryan gasped at the eroticism of the touch. When his thumb came away smeared with blood, Ryan took it into his mouth, moaning as he sucked, his tongue rasping against Keller’s skin.

Ryan jolted awake, eyes wide, shuddering breath catching in his throat at the intensity of the dream. He was spending way too much time with Keller.

 

 **Hungry** \- Richie Hanlon, 100 words, NC17

Richie loved cock: fat ones, thin ones, cut or uncut, cocks that curved to one side or stood up straight and tall, or those too heavy to rise, that just grew thicker – hard as steel under velvet smooth skin. He loved the way they started out soft and malleable, and with just a little encouragement they started to grow, eager, greedy, anxious for more. But he liked them best when they were hard – stiff and red and jerking in his hands like a live animal, angry and proud. There was nothing in the world better than a fierce, hungry cock.

 

 **Something in the Air (Lockdown)** , Sean Murphy, Murphy/McManus implied, 200 words, NC17

Sean bangs on the Plexiglas, the sharp tap of his night stick jolting Beecher and Keller apart like a live wire. Beecher heads to his bunk, flushing, embarrassed to get caught making-out even after all this time in the glass cages of Em City. Keller smirks at Sean, adjusting his cock blatantly, not in the least ashamed of the hard-on that’s threatening to poke a hole through his pants.

Sean resists the temptation to adjust his own half-hard cock and turns away, shaking his head. There must be something in the air; all day long he’s run up against nothing but horny inmates, trying to get off in broad daylight, not even thinking of waiting until lights out.

Sighing, he pauses at the O’Reily pod. Cyril’s asleep on the lower bunk, but on the other one his big brother is flipping the pages of a skin mag, one hand hidden behind the open zipper of his pants. At Sean’s tap, O’Reily pulls his hand free, waving his sticky fingers cheerfully in Sean’s direction.

He’s had enough. Sean turns his back and walks away, his cock throbbing. Maybe Tim’s got a few minutes to spare…this isn’t going to take long.


End file.
